Dark
by Elluxion
Summary: Both midnight wanderers that trawl the halls long after lights-out: Hermione to muse upon a nightmare, Draco for a taste of freedom he longs for -- and confess to themselves the disturbing attraction to the other.


**Dark  
One-Shot Fic  
Written by Elluxion  
**

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Yes. I'm J.K. Rowling. I'm a millionaire. Harry Potter belongs to me. And I have so much free time that I write stories that are way below my level. 

*hits reader on the head with a scythe* HP doesn't belong to me, you doofus! X_X 

I must say that I really loved writing this one. I'm proud of this work -- bigheaded as that sounds -- and I hope it somehow captures the playful chemistry between Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger. I hope you like it and I'd really worship reviews right now. ;) 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion

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**Title: **Dark 

**Written by: **Elluxion 

**Date: ** 23 February 

**Genre: ** Romance/Action 

**Shippings: ** Sort of H/D 

**Summary: ** Both midnight wanderers that trawl the halls long after lights-out: Hermione to muse upon a nightmare, Draco for a taste of freedom he longs for -- and confess to themselves the disturbing attraction to the other. 

**Notes: ** A little teaser to what MIGHT have been between them. =) 

Onwards! Onegai, review! 

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Something swirling, spinning, tossing her about forcefully, submerging her in a chasm of darkness, frightening depths of ceaseless black. Hermione Granger let out scream after piercing scream, knowing that there was no one there to hear her, to realize that she was pleading for help. She might as well have been voiceless. 

The sense of being alone was terrifying; it engulfed her in its furious torrent, smothering the wits and the intelligence she strived to make work of. She couldn't see – it was as if she was blind or had her eyes closed. Hermione struggled to figure out where she was, fighting back the urge to simply collapse and sob, giving in to the misery inside her. Yet the more she strained, the more she retaliated, the tighter her constraints became, confining her to a point where she was barely able to breathe. She was being tangled and chained in a tornado of tumbling melanosis. Slowly, ever so slowly, she dredged up memories of the books that she pored through, sifting through bits and pieces of fractured knowledge, trying to recognize the place she was plunged in. The cold pierced her like biting frost; it was an iciness that was alluring in its dangerous beauty. 

Suddenly, the lean form of Draco Malfoy came to mind, and Hermione's stomach lurched uncomfortably. It was a place where her thoughts were private and hers alone, and she finally worded the realization that had been lurking in her mind for nearly a year. She was attracted to the enigma, the riddled mystery that was knotted in complexity of the elegant Slytherin. He was like a cryptograph, occult, so dark and concealed and inscrutable. 

Her inquisitive mind was drawn to the challenge of figuring out the Seeker, the essence of... something behind the mysterious, flashing mercury eyes and silver hair; the seductive charm and the somehow boyish innocence that lightened the otherwise infuriating manner and casual drawl of insults and retorts in a relaxed and almost bored snobbishness. Hermione admired the cold, cool and slightly challengingly calm looks of pure metal he shared with his father, the way he carried himself with a nefarious air. It was the kind of beauty and attitude she had only dreamed of having – the aristocratic, almost princess-like artic colours, the etiquette and the poised composure. 

She was not interested in being more than friends with him or even merely being his acquaintance. She wanted to solve the mystery he wore like a second skin, a mask, like a bejewelled sheath that obscured the cool, shimmering dagger. She wanted to find out the reason behind this unusual, slender boy, the life he led, the friends he had, the way he spent his holidays. Draco fascinated Hermione to a perpetual point, and she wanted him as her study case. 

Hermione broke off her thoughts suddenly. The coldness was seeping through her skin like a subtle poison and she had been alerted to a fetid stench that she hadn't noticed before. Where could she be... and how could she escape the horrifying sea of sable shadows and return to the real world? She'd give anything for light, at that point, or the simple warmth of a human hand. 

She attempted to venture forward and could only cry out when she found herself frozen in unwilling fear. There was an impenetrable barrier between her nerves and her brain, her rigid-muscled body like a stiff, unmoving, plastic doll. She tried again, valiantly, and succeeded in stumbling forward before catching herself. It looked as if she was pitching forward into a patch of unending black, and she cried out in terror. 

It was only then that she awoke. 

~*~ 

Draco Malfoy drew the cloak he wore for warmth closer around himself as he traversed the Slytherin common room with ease. Spectral emerald light from a lamp balanced on the mantelpiece aided in his short journey, weaving swiftly around stiff-backed furniture that loomed like tombstones in the dark. 

He breathed a sigh of relief only when the statue swung firmly shut behind him, emitting a soft click that was hardly audible. These nightly expeditions he would prefer to keep private and to himself. It was the only time when he could be himself, the real Draco, to the audience of none. He was free of any staggering confinements. It was like a tight bandage being unravelled, no -- _torn_, off him. He was able to _breathe_. No 'friends' thronging in front or behind him, no thinly veiled hints to his apparent service to the Dark Lord, no Gryffindor students casting dark glances at him, no insults and jeers to fend off and return. The absence of all these were poignant and he was brimming with gratitude. 

Like the lissom ghost he was, Draco stole down the corridors, almost part of the impalpable shadows himself in the grey cloak he favoured. His movements were with liquid grace, held with fluidity, and executed effortlessly. He didn't have the pleasure of venturing out often, and he savoured and relished the feeling of being alone, basking in his state of an almost... lightness of sorts. 

The silence of rustling leaves, pained moans, mysterious clicks and soft, but sporadic breath wrapped around him, suggesting danger and whispering threats and warnings. Draco embarked on a route that would lead him directly past Severus Snape's dormitory, through the trophy room which Peeves frequented, and finally, up to his ultimate destination: the Astronomy Tower. 

As he padded, with a refined grace of a cat, down the darkened hallways, anticipation built up within him. It was a queer kind of adrenaline – the enticing risks that he liked to take at night; when it was all gambles and odd flashes of insight and fast reflexes that brought him diving noiselessly into a classroom as a teacher strolled past on patrol. He likened it to a game with heavy consequences if he was caught. 

Smiling grimly to himself, Draco turned past the portrait of the Fat Lady. The realistic oil painting looked blankly off into where he stood, before her dark eyes focused on him, picking him out from the secreting shadows he preferred. 

"Out after hours?" she asked mildly with amusement, the question clearly directed at him. 

Draco hesitated before giving a simple nod, unwilling to break the silence. 

"All right then. Mind you don't get caught. Don't worry, I didn't see anything." The Fat Lady winked at him, and he let out a chuckle before catching himself and hurrying on. 

~*~ 

"Quite a night for wanderers, hmm?" 

Hermione slowly turned her head back to stare at the Fat Lady. The portrait bestowed upon the Gryffindor a sleepy if benevolent smile. 

"Wanderers?" she parroted politely. The Fat Lady nodded unconcernedly. 

"Someone came by just a few seconds before you did, dear. A young man – striking looks, really, winter colours and whatnot. You could get lost in eyes like those," she paused reflectively, before an amused smile twitched at her lips. "Confident manner... graceful – seemed almost like... this may sound absurd... royalty." 

Hermione racked her brains for such a person and surfaced clutching at straws. "I have no idea who you're talking about," she responded honestly. "But, yes, thank you." 

"Mind you don't row with him. Wouldn't want you waking the whole castle up – if you did, I was asleep at the time." The Fat Lady winked at her. 

Hermione stifled a nervous giggle and flashed a quick smile, before drawing out the Invisibility Cloak from under her robes and swinging it over her shoulders. It trailed over the floor slightly as she started her trot towards the Astronomy Tower, reckoning that the superb view and wintry breeze would help her clear her mind. 

She drifted through the castle, ducking the Bloody Baron as he floated silently past her. She felt like a spirit herself, clad in the silken material of the Cloak, moving with slow, evenly paced steps, trotting easily through the winding corridors and suddenly slamming doors. 

The witch touched the door of the highest Tower in the castle, and it swung open gently at the whisper of her fingers. 

And screamed as someone – something – ripped her Cloak off, pinning her down forcefully onto the wall, a dark presence, mostly felt, rather than seen. 

Hermione Granger wasn't the only person in the Astronomy Tower. 

~*~ 

Draco swung the door shut gently, slowly, with the precision of a surgeon. He was rewarded for the effort when the door of the trophy room clicked into place without its usual noisy groan. 

Mission accomplished, he felt like mouthing to an invisible partner. His forehead dipped into a frown, realizing that the first person that popped up in his mind was none other than Miss Hermione Granger herself. 

Miss Granger of the flushed cheeks, the merry smile, the silken mass of bouncing, caramel ringlets. The sparkling brandy eyes always so filled with hope and joy, eyes that intrigued him to no end. The way she drew attention off herself with the grace of a gazette and playing the spotlight on someone else instead. The manner in which she was always cheerful, always optimistic, even when it took an effort to be so. She was small, petite and slender, an elfin frame with a fairy-like personality. 

How did she pull it off? She probably had been through more peril than the entire Slytherin House combined, had probably witnessed more gruesome and gory things than wizards twice as old as she was. She was supposed to be jaded, and yet she bounced right back up. She confused him with that resilient attitude; he wanted to ask questions and demand answers. He wanted her to teach him how to shake off depression and look at something in a different light. He wanted her light sense of humour rather than the corroding sarcasm he possessed. He wanted the blithe, prancing way she had of moving rather than the quiet, measured steps he had been drilled to take. He wanted her popularity and her happiness and content. 

Not to mention that distracting way she would chew on the tip of her quill while pondering an answer, the breathless look that accompanied it, the way her curls fell softly as a frame for her face like little tendrils, the manner in which her eyes would light up with pleasure and intelligence when the answer was reached. 

Draco leant against the wall and closed his eyes. She was a mystery that he wanted to unravel, and never would. Her personality did irritate him at times, with the perpetual hopefulness, and he didn't really want to befriend her. He confessed to himself in a heartbeat. Hermione was physically attractive, and her secrets drew him to her like the proverbial moth to the flickering flames. 

When he slid his eyes open again, Draco adjusted the cloak, ensuring that he was properly covered, before heading into the corridor that would take him to the Astronomy Tower. 

~*~ 

He was hungry. 

Portkeys. He didn't like them. He classified them as dangerous and he stayed away from them. But when he'd brushed against a seemingly innocent broken watch, lying tangled in a bush, he'd been transported... to this ghastly cold place, with its echoing chambers and queer castle that seemed almost... alive. 

And victims. 

Warm, breathing victims, installed in their beds, dreaming sweet dreams. If he had a face, he would probably have been smiling. Sweet dreams can go sour and bitter very quickly and morph and ooze into binding nightmares before you knew it. And he wanted to be the one who would bring the change about. 

He had flitted about the halls for a while, trying to regain his bearings, trying to get a feel of his new surroundings. Reflexes quicker than thought guided his journey through this castle-like place, with its turrets and secret tunnels. He'd ascended the castle steadily, finally ending up in the highest point he could sense. Perhaps a glimpse of his surroundings would help. 

Then a girl had come in. 

He had whirled at once. The quiver in the air was slight and gentle, but it had seared through him like deadly fire. The temperature in the room instantly shot up high, warmed by the breath and presence of this girl. She was clothed in something that blocked her from view. 

He had swept towards her faster before she could react and torn the cloak off her, tossing it to one side. As her frightened face was revealed, he could feel a series of thrills throbbing through him, singing gaily. She was such a young girl! – Tender, and juicy, from the looks of it. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a demure face refined by rose-dipped lips and naturally curling eyelashes. 

Her feelings – confusion, fear, all laced with hope! Oh, he was in for a treat! 

The Lethifold wrapped himself about her tightly as if he would a lover, brushing against the flushed cheeks tenderly, a caress that brought a terrified shudder forth. He rustled against her forehead, a kiss that was lightened by a small yelp of shock from her lips. 

What could he say? He was hungry. 

~*~ 

Hermione moaned feverishly, struggling, flailing. The clarity of her mind and wits were clouding rapidly, and all she could remember to do was to fight. She lashed out, longing for vision as she spiralled dreamily away from reality. 

The half-inch thick black cloak, which had attacked her, was a... what was it? She groped, fumbled in the blind darkness for an answer. The name had sprung to mind only moments ago... and yet it eluded her. 

Where was she? Hermione shook her head forcefully, continuing to thrash as the cloak-like object tightened itself about her, savouring her. She had to think... think? Think about what? 

Darkness beckoned and Hermione followed obediently. But just before she took that final step into the murky shadows, she caught a flash of silver hair, of slender form, of mercury eyes, of snow-kissed skin. 

"Draco," she managed to choke out, before the cloak smothered her, and words were no more. 

~*~ 

"Lethifold," Draco breathed in shock. A rare breed of species, found only in the tropics, devouring victims in their beds, leaving no trace behind. Apparently, this Lethifold seemed quite happy to digest that girl in the Astronomy Tower too – 

"Shit," he muttered in horror for lack of a more elegant word. He'd know that mass of brown hair anywhere, accompanied by the sweeping lashes. Hermione, with perverse serenity etched on her young features. Her eyes fluttered slightly at his voice, but she simply emitted a sigh, as if caught up in a dream, and slipped back into slumber. 

"Granger," he said again, louder. His voice – a human voice. It brought Hermione back to the real world. "Granger – snap out of it!" 

She hardly stirred, still enclosed in the Lethifold's grasp. The ghostly beast was eyeing him, even as he tightened his grip on Hermione's body. Draco drew out his wand smoothly, delving deep for the charm that would disintegrate the cloak-like thing – 

"Granger, don't be an idiot and just sleep! You're being led into nightmares, for God's sake; you won't ever wake up if you give in! Pull yourself together!" he snapped angrily at her, casting a worried glance at the Lethifold, rife with anxiety. 

A pang of hesitation targeted him. It was Hermione Granger who needed saving – the Golden Girl of Hogwarts, the model pupil, and the shoo-in for Head Girl – Hermione, for heaven's sake! He – son of Lucius Malfoy, dark rumours circling around him, linking his name inextricably in servitude to the Dark Lord – saving a Muggle-born, a Gryffindor? 

A snort escaped him. Who was there to see him if he did? And maybe, just maybe, she'd show him a little bit of her he'd never thought he would see… her private secrets and her quiet thoughts… 

With a wild yell to startle the Lethifold, Draco plunged through the misting folds of cloth, succeeding in knocking the unaware creature aside. He landed on Hermione with a sickening crunch – _owch_, his conscience reminded him – and gripped the stricken girl by the shoulders. 

"Hermione!" 

Her first name had slid out before he could stuff it back in. The almost desperate cry – for Malfoys never really _are_ desperate, he reminded himself vaguely – accomplished what his earlier words of rebuke could not. It brought Hermione from the edge where she had teetered. 

The eyelashes that rested on her cheeks quivered gently before lifting, revealing a listlessness-filled pair of cinnamon eyes. They widened as she registered him mentally, losing the blankness, which had, for a moment, startled Draco. 

"Hermione," he said roughly, quickly; he could sense the Lethifold drifting ominously over his shoulder, taking his adversary in as it moved restlessly from one side to the other. 

"Draco?" she fairly gasped. "What the hell are you doing in here?" 

He scowled at her, forgetting for a moment that she had addressed him by his first name, recalling only the scintillating intelligence she had behind those long-lashed dark eyes. "Lethifold. Trying to eat you up. Spell to kill it?" 

Caveman primitive, perhaps, Draco reflected, but not when your life was hanging loosely by a frayed and decidedly thinning thread. The Lethifold touched the back of his head lightly, wonderingly, and Draco flung it away with a quick sweep of his hand. "Not the hair, dammit!" 

"Patronus Charm," Hermione responded mechanically, then blinked in amazement at the speed at which she had provided an answer. "_Expecto Patronum._ Think of a happy thought or a strong enough emotion close to that." 

Almost before she had completed her answer, akin to a textbook's, Draco had already twisted to face the beast, his wand outstretched and shaking slightly. 

"_Expecto Patronum!_" 

Something silver, something that caught the dim moonlight erupted out of his wand tip, faint, like weak wisps of fog, yet gathering at a main point as he threw out the words again. 

"Come on! – _Expecto Patronum!_" 

The mists strengthened ever so slightly, taking form against the Lethifold, swirling and rustling ominously. The Lethifold crouched low, obviously nonplussed by the sudden appearance of the Patronus, but getting over his initial surprise and astonishment swiftly. A low growl rumbled from the Lethifold, signalling danger, and he recoiled, ready to strike – 

Draco winced as he hit the ground, the impact jarring his teeth; he nearly bit his tongue off as he automatically rolled and slammed into Hermione – 

She let go of his robes just as the Lethifold shot over their heads. The tackle would have taken the head off him. Draco shook himself roughly, trying to blink away the splattered spots of unconsciousness swimming idly in front of his vision; the wisps of milk-white flickered, threatening to die away completely. The Lethifold seemed to sway on the spot before opening his stance, ready to attack again – 

"Expecto Patronum!" he yelled accusingly at the cloak – the mists slowed at the words, but began to fade again. 

"Think of something happy, you git!" Hermione clawed at his arm for attention; they were still cheek to cheek on the ground, unable to stand up as the Lethifold billowed just above them – 

Draco shut his eyes. 

"_Expecto Patronum!_" 

The fog rushed together with a collective gasp and then a rumbling groan. The light was too blinding for him to see anything; with his wand hand he threw it before his eyes, shutting them hastily. He could hear paws on the floor, a stalker's prowl, a dangerous growl and a soft roar – the sounds of a short battle, something being bowled over – 

Then a silence ringing deafeningly in his ears. 

"It's over," someone said shakily, breath hot on his cheek, nearly blowing out his hearing. Draco turned to face Hermione, a sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue – 

Mercury met cinnamon; moonlight glinted off chocolate and silver; alabaster skin against a light tan. Her closeness was dangerously intoxicating. Draco studied the girl as she stood up and brushed off, running a hand absentmindedly through her hair, dragging out the tangles to no avail. 

"Yes. It is," he settled for the simple answer, turning awkwardly and walking over to one of the old-fashioned archer windows, staring out at the breathtaking scenery of dappled trees, resting a pale hand against the windowsill. 

~*~ 

A rueful smile was gravely etched on Hermione's lips as she moved to join the Slytherin at the window. He seemed to bask in the moonlight; this was his element: the stark, striking colours of the winter night. He was so pale, he almost gave off an ethereal glow of his own. The illumination caught the lighter features of his face, and for the first time in her life, she saw that his eyes, turned towards the starry night sky, were soft and wistful. 

A delicate blanket of snow coated the vast expanse of Hogwarts grounds like sugared icing on a Christmas cake. The Forbidden Forest was crowned with a splendorous virgin white, pure and untainted. Stars broke through the clouded sky above their heads, shining furiously and winking at them both. Come morning, the sun would start melting the beauty unfolded before their eyes, and Hogwarts students' cries and snowball fights would tarnish the quiet tranquillity. But for now, everything was laced with a fragile song of silence, a tentative elegy. 

"Beautiful night," the boy next to her commented, his voice soft, as if not wanting to break the quiet stillness. With those two words, neutral and boyish, yet strangely profound, she glimpsed in him a side she had never even remotely looked at before, and she could feel a warm blush of – of something, of some sort of emotion. Of a special kind of... bond. Briefly, they had been united against a common enemy. He had saved her life; she had salvaged his. You don't just save someone's life and then turn around and call her a Mudblood. However they would interact from now on would depend on how he felt about her. Was she still several levels below him in his mind? 

Or had he always thought of her as his equal? 

She smiled softly. Questions like these could be found out, and pondered, later – another mystery for her mind to dissect. Already the matter of returning to her dormitory unseen and unheard – her Invisibility Cloak was beyond repair – and the matter of explaining the ruined magical artefact to one of her best friends were hovering at the horizon of her thoughts. For now, though, all that mattered was replying Draco Malfoy, and reply she did. 

"Yes. Beautiful night." 

He turned and walked away. 

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I'm in hopes that you liked the twist at the end. =) Grammar and spelling-wise, it should be okay since I wrote it in Microsoft Word. 

This may be my last fic for a while. I'm working like mad on _Sweetest Are The Stolen Kisses_ (under the name Lemmings, with G and Mari -- ) so I might not have time for my own fics. *sniffle* Sooo... if you actually are interested in other works of mine, GO READ SATSK! If you've read either Marionette's or Liquid Mercury's work and like it (wait a sec, you're bound to like their works, right?!) go take a lookie as well, since it's a collaboration between the three of us. 

Humongous thanks to my fellow co-writer G -- this fic wouldn't have been half as good without you. *grins* 

Review! *waves a Hershey's Kiss in front of you tantalizingly* 

Hugs and cookies,  
Elluxion

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